One of my favorite childhood memories was of my father shaving. I would jump on the counter, lean against him and watch in fascination as the razor glided down his face. I would pretend to shave; however, the reason for jumping on that counter next to him was that I enjoyed seeing the reflection of us together. I was so in love with my father, I wanted to do everything like him. I wanted to walk like him, act like him, and talk like him. I wanted to be him.

I wonder if Peter, Andrew, James and John felt the same way in Jesus’ presence. What compelled them to drop everything - nets, lives, families and follow him. Was it his eyes, his presence, or the way he gently said “follow me” It spoke to something deeper, that made them want to jump up on that counter next to him, and see their reflection next to his.

Maybe it was the way he gently extended his hand to people used to being slapped. How he touched when others recoiled, embraced when others pushed away. The way he never missed a chance to forgive. His behavior was so unusual, so life altering, that they could not believe he was calling them.

An author wrote these men were haunted and hounded day-in and day-out by His beauty, a beauty ever-ancient, ever-new. They fell in love with his love, they were touched by a love that transcends time. And they said yes. Come follow me? Imagine that question directed at you, with all its implications.

I have been deeply thinking of the call of Jesus and I asked “what does it mean to be a Christian?” Do we walk like him, act like him, and talk like him? Do we follow him? We watched in horror at the tragedy in Tucson. The depths of sadness for lives lost and those irrevocably changed. Yet, despite the pain, there is an underlying prodding encouraging more hatred. The press reminds us of gun targets over the face of the congresswomen, the tension rises.

Political operatives on both sides point the accusatory finger at one another. This is your fault! Politicians invoke the Lord’s name within the context of a political speech, yet nothing seems to change. I think of the face of that young child, her innocence, dreams, now a family’s pain, and the realization the one who pulled the trigger, was at one time a child with dreams that somehow lost all hope.

Saturday night, the television a broadcast of Saving Private Ryan. Images of Omaha Beach - despair, blood and death. A dying 18 years old cries for his mother. The realization that German and American alike was once someone’s child and now they sit on a cold cliff, afraid, wishing they were somewhere else. Praying to the same God, asking for the same hope, safety, the same peace. What at one time seemed entertainment or history begins to affect me physically. I became tense and angry, I cannot watch.

And then Monday, the life of a young man who spoke of God, justice, love and peace. Black and white images of people working together to bring about the Promised Land. I have a dream followed by the image of young preacher sprawled on a hotel balcony, a bloody towel held to his forehead. TV silence and then a commercial of Kobe Bryant and a young girl holding guns, interactively shooting an unknown enemy, promoting a video game where the objective is the more kill as many people as possible.

Harmless games, politicians attacking one another, children and senior programs being cut to save political face, families torn apart because of an invisible border. You want to scream “where are you Jesus” The question is far too easy. The difficult question should be, “where are the Christians?” I know you are around, There are 30 channels are devoted to salvation and preachers. I can drive by Churches and see parking lots full. My inbox is loaded with messages testing my faith if only I will forward this message.

What is our call? Those simple, uneducated men dropped their nets and followed Jesus because they knew he was the light in a dark world. Maybe they could be different, that maybe they could make a difference in the world. Those smelly nets they held in their hands not only represented their profession, the nets represented their lives, doubts about God, insecurities, prejudices, hatred, a narrow view of the world. Yet, when Jesus said, follow me, they dropped them.

Andrew, Peter, John and James realized that in Jesus, the rotting old way was not good enough. They were now willing to break the rules, cross the lines, they found a truth that lives, moves and breathes, a truth that they could believe in. They were swept off their feet crazy in love with this man. The dropped their nets and answered him.

Jesus did not say “worship me” he said “follow me.” Because he knew that if they followed him they would understand that everyone was welcome and loved. Age made no difference; young and old were healed. The poor mattered equally as the rich. How he touched the Roman Centurion, and those who hated the Romans. No one was a stranger in his presence.

They watched in amazement at how he gently embraced those with mental illness and held the lonely and hurting. The tender way he pulled those who doubted him close to his heart. Imagine their reaction when he cupped the face of the Prostitute in his hands and stroked the rotting legs of the leper.

He was like no one else who ever walked the earth. They wanted to lean against him and see their face, their reflection next to his. They wanted to walk like him, act like him, talk like him, and they did. And guess what, they changed the world. I ask myself, what is my call? I live in this world, I call myself a Christian.

The words of Christ, his actions are so profound and transformative that we should fall in love with him daily. We should be caught up and called out. Like the words of the song Deeper and deeper, it was love that made me a believer. In more than a name, a faith, a creed, falling in love with Jesus brought the change in me.

As Jesus walks in our world today, calling out, "follow me” his message has not changed and it is just as relevant in our fractured world today. When we see our reflections next to his, and we act like him, those small actions in tiny spaces around us, heal a fractured world. We accept that he welcomes Republicans, Democrats and Independents. He loves Christian radicals and Muslim extremists, gang members, devout monks, drug addicts, and moralistic preachers. And maybe, we begin to do the same thing.

We stare in amazement at his love for the immigrant sneaking into the country in the dark of night, and the militia members who punctures their buckets of water. How we wraps his arms around the alcoholic, the physical abuser and those who cower in their presence. The way he loves you and me. As a philosopher wrote, “Once you know Him, you cannot be cured of Him." Knowing him, you understand the common love and bond that binds each of us together. A love that knows no divisions, only similar faces reflected in the mirror. And if we see each other, if we see Christ, we change the world.

In my 46 years, I have not stopped child abuse or hunger. I have not convinced some followers of Christ that no one is excluded from God’s love or table. I have a short temper and hold long grudges. There is still homelessness, poverty, or hateful rhetoric. But I can easily drop the nets and try. Jesus tells us that each day is a new day.

Small little acts against hate, violence, division can change the world. Like an enormous spider web, if you touch it anywhere, you set the whole thing trembling. When we drop those nets, our hands fill with outreach, compassion, forgiveness, and love. We smell not our old lives, but the fragrance of creativity, peace, and acceptance. We make this Sunday romance into a daily passionate love affair with Christ.

“Follow me." Simple fishermen responded to the call, they were smart enough to run to his side. Our hands are filled with the nets of life. Will I, will you hold them, or jump on that counter, lean against him, see your reflection next to his, and then begin walk like him, act like him and talk like him. Only you can make that choice.

Today we find a human and hopeful Gospel story, that is often lost in the majesty of Christmas, or relegated to the second act of the Nativity pageant. Yet, like most of the Gospel, read between the lines, and find something deeper. It is not simply a story of three guys with funny names, who were wise, astronomers or kings. It is not about them stopping by the manger with camels and strange gifts. It is a story of a spiritual journey, a journey that many of us undertake when we seek Christ.

The problem is that we hear this story so many times, that we develop our own images and version of these men. We assume Caspar, Balthazar and Melchior are smart, educated and rich. They have treasure chests, camels, gold, frankincense and Myrrh. Yet do we know they have everything, something could be missing. Maybe their lives were not filled with stars, maybe each had a private black hole, swallowing part of them up. And then they felt deep inside this calling, a gentle voice telling them that things can be different. They had to find what was beckoning, and then they find a star.

Matthew tells us the sign was a star at its rising. Not a brilliant star that lit up the heavens, or a huge comet streaking across the sky. A star- rising. It could have been one among the billions of stars in the night sky. A star you wouldn’t notice unless you were looking for it; one that may be out there tonight. But these men were looking. When I was young, I was told that God had this beautiful coat and the stars decorated the coat. That star that hung of Bethlehem was probably the one positioned over God’s heart, pulsating in rhythm with God heartbeat at the excitement of the love sent down.

When these men, left their homes to find Christ, I wonder if people snickered. They had no proof, only a feeling and a star. The silent whispers – Huh, wise men, they must be fools, God does not come among us. Their own rational intelligence was most likely telling them the same thing: are you crazy? Messiahs, stars, a long difficult journey on the off chance of finding God? Stay home, you can deal with it. But there was that longing, that gently calling and off they went, without a map, after a star.

I believe they did so, because like each one of us, we know that we are created for something more. Our lives have purpose. This journey that is filled with joy, pain, tears and laughter, has meaning. God is always calling us, if we listen, if we look. And despite our resistance, our attempts to fill that longing with material goods, temporary anesthetics, or the empty fillers, we need to seek out our true fulfillment – God.

Maybe that is why the wise men sought that star beating on God’s chest. The journey must have been perilous. From the area near Bagdad, they would have traveled nearly 500 miles. Through the desert, they faced heat, cold, and blinding sandstorms. They traveled unmarked roads with no comforts of home, encountering pleasant things like vipers, highway robbers, and Roman patrols.

Adding to the difficulty, imagine following a star without a guide or map. It is kind of like our own spiritual journeys. Some nights are cloudy and wish for the light to return. You are in a storm, and your footsteps wander as you search for the light. When the light is faint, you wonder if it really exists. This was their challenge; they strayed off course, reoriented themselves, and took that step, once again toward the star. I am sure when one wanted to turn around, they encouraged one another. When one was ill, they cared for their friend. They yelled, laughed, and probably cried.

To endure this journey, I cannot believe it was simply adventure, prophecy or curiosity. W. H. Auden captured their sentiments in the poem For the Time Being: This journey is much too long, that we want our dinners, and miss our wives, our books and our dogs. But we only the vaguest idea why we are what we are. To discover how to be human now is the reason we follow this star.

To be human, to realize they were created in God’s image, that they are loved by God. Maybe they knew that in journeying toward and finding a loving God, they would also find transformation. Each of these sojourners had a longing that could not be filled by riches. Balthazar had forgotten how to love, and longed for the feeling of an open heart. Or Casper had found out that he had an illness, and was fearful of the future. Maybe Melchior was just having a rough time in life and needed hope, a light that was to be found at the end of a star. So the three, with different needs, pushed forward, seeking that one thing that could transform their lives.

Each of us had undertaken this journey. Deep inside we know that there is something more. And we take that first tentative step toward Bethlehem. It may be with exhilaration, trepidation or desperation, but we seek him. We may find ourselves in a hot, barren desert, pelted by the sands of life. We may desperately thirst for relief or find an oasis of consolation. We take that journey. We may see the strong light of the star or strain to see that fading light that eludes our eyes. We ask – will he be there? Does Christ exist at all? Yet we know, and we step forward. Just like these three men.

The wonder is what they found. They did not find a King attended by servants, harps playing, dressed in the finest silk. They did not find a bookkeeper Messiah, who keeps track of all your wrongs, adds them up and then dispenses judgment. At the end of their long difficult journey, they found a baby. Lying in a barn surrounded by a tired Jewish carpenter, a young mother, serenaded by cows, sheep and horses.

Imagine the reaction, the incredulous realization in finding God – in a helpless baby. Matthew tells us that with joy they knelt and offered him gifts. They did not question God or attempt to explain it, they realized that God was doing something entirely new and original. I would have been shocked, traveling all this way and finding a baby in a barn. If the journey is hard I want the spectacular movie God, the fireworks, thunderclap, the instant awakening. Yet, deep down we know that God is so much more than our own personal magician or action movie. God never fully reveals himself. We see God in the reflections in our lives. Like light streaming through the stained glass, enveloping our lives slowly, beautifully and softly. God speaks to us in whispers, appears to us in shadows.

We may find God in a manger, while driving to work, in the quiet of silence, in the company of one another. We find Jesus in the poor, the homeless, in holding the hand of a dying friend, sitting with the frail elderly, laughing with a child, in our tears during the darkest of nights. We find God in this Church, the Eucharist, at the end of a heavenly light, in a baby’s wet smile, or the person sitting next to you. All become our own little stables in Bethlehem.

And Matthew tells us that our journey does not end once we find Christ. He said they “departed to their own country by another road." When these three men found what they were looking for, once again, the easy thing would be to stay in that manger, but God expects so much more of us. They had to return for the journey was not complete. And what is more, being in his presence did not mean the return journey was easy. They would face the same misdirection’s, heat, sandstorms, frustrations and exhaustion. But they were different, the Child had changed them, God was with them.

Knowing that God was with him, when he returned home from Bethlehem Balthazar once again opened his heart to love, and I imagine he loved all those around him, family, friends, and strangers with an indescribable love. Caspar found a way to deal with his illness; he endured and served as an inspiration to others who were ill, comforting them in their pain. Melchior who was hopeless, I imagine him smiling telling everyone of how God sent a helpless child full of love, so that each one of us would know that we are loved. And as he told the story, he showered those around him with smiles, peace and blessings. He who was without hope gave hope. Each one brought Christ to the world because as Augustine said, “Christ is the bread seeking hunger.”

When we bring our whole being to the Lord, our longings and then we lay our gifts at his feet, our compassion for others, service to the poor, a listening ear, a shoulder to cry on, we become different. And then we go back, we find that the road is different. It will lead us to new paths of faith, service and devotion. Roads we never thought we would travel. That is why this is called the Epiphany, the sudden realization.

God brings newness and possibility to each step we take in our lives. It tells us that from the very beginning Jesus is to be personally experienced, no just thought of, looked upon, discussed, proved, accepted or argued. Like those wise men, seek Christ. That despite the pain of the journey, the naysayers, and the challenges, the road is worth it. The journey, will always lead us to where we belong – With God. And when we get there with joy, offer the precious gifts that God gave you to God and one another and then reach out and grasp the hand of the holy one. Your journey, your life will never be the same.

Since the angel Gabriel spoke: Mary blessed are you: we have debated “why?” She is the subject of theology, the object of devotion even the recipient of scorn. She is embraced and cast aside. Different cultures create Mary in their own image. She is Indian, Polish, French and African. White, black, brown, red and yellow. She is Mary is of Galilee, called the Mother of God, a spiritual woman, she is Guadalupe.

Why is she special? Many sermons will speak of her faithfulness; despite the unknown journey God has placed before her, she says yes. Theologians will point to her humility and devotion. Never at the adulation of great miracles, only at the first, Cana, yet she stands with her son at the foot of the cross. Mary gave Christ his humanity and his human features. He may have had the same color eyes, the texture of hair; maybe their laughs sounded the same.

Women speak of her liberating qualities. I am startled by her determination. In a time, where women were treated with no respect and little regard, and in many places not much has changed, she stands as a symbol of change and courage. God first had to liberate Mary, before Christ could liberate us.

I find it interesting that the countries that tend to have a strong machoistic culture, Mexico, Latin America, Italy, have strong reverence for Mary; maybe a way to reconcile the feminine with the divine. Think of her strength. Other than Christ, she was the world’s greatest prophet. She delivered the voice that continues to transform the world. Her heart is for the oppressed, the Magnificat sounds eerily similar to the Beatitudes.

Mary for those who are pushed aside, the oppressed worker, those discriminated against, those who society rejects or forgets, embrace Mary’s strength. Thousands of protest marches always seem to have a picture of Mary leading their steps.

In this sanctuary, we have beautiful representations and my favorite is probably the least accepted. In the 1800’s Dante Rossetti painted today’s Gospel, and it seems to answer that question as to why Mary is truly special. Mary is not a grown woman, strong, resplendent in beautiful robes passively gazing upon the divine. She is not smiling, humbly accepting or sitting in prayerful repose. Mary is young, and is recoiling as if disturbed from sleep. She is dressed in a simple gown, and her hair is rumpled.

As Gabriel is handing her a white lily and with the Holy Spirit is in the background waiting to enter Mary, she has this look, that I can only describe as….sheer terror. What makes Mary special is not solely her love of Christ, her faithfulness or strength. Mary is special because despite all the obstacles and overwhelming odds against her; she understood that God was working in her life. Mary… was able to see the beginning of miracle.

This is difficult for me, and I assume many of you. We try to get at miracles from the wrong end. We want the results and not the process. The conversion instead of the pain. We want the butterfly instead of the cocoon. The light without fumbling through the darkness. A new life, instead of grasping the miracles in our own lives.

It is much easier to immediately attribute the events in our lives to the results of something: our intelligence, our actions, bad decisions, even fortune. Yet, we may fail to realize that something deeper in working in our lives, God. We fail to see the beginning of miracles. The start of a new life that none of us had planned.

Mary had no way of knowing, yet she felt the possibility of a miracle. If we lose our job, that relationship ends, or a diagnosis is received, do we see the end or the beginning? Like Mary, can we find the miracle occurring within?

I was once told that Mary had it easy because she was chosen by God. Really? The Gospels point to a life that probably mirrors ours. Gabriel’s message could have been taken as tragic. A poor, unwed, pregnant teen in 1st century Galilee – it was a death sentence. An angel told her she would bear the Son of God and then he was born in a barn surrounded by animals? Do you think she questioned her judgment or whether the angel was telling the truth? Her entire life was filled with pain, obstacles and challenges. She and Joseph were homeless immigrants running from the authorities, sneaking into foreign land with a small child.

Joseph dies and she is left widowed, penniless and on her own. Her own family believes that Jesus is out of his mind and shuns him, yet she believed in him. Mary witnessed her son’s murder, yet she does not hate, or condemn. Mary has every reason not to believe in miracles, yet for some reason she knew that that cross was the beginning of another miracle.

Where did this come from? Gabriel says two things that become foundational in Mary’s belief of the miraculous in her. Mary asks “how can this be?” Gabriel responds “God is with you and nothing is impossible with God.” She did not know what tomorrow would bring so decided to live for today. Despite the ups and downs, the tears and the laughter; she knew that God was with her. And more than that, she knows that nothing, nothing compares to the greatness of knowing God.

Maybe that is why so many different cultures and colors have made her their own. Everyday Mary, a person no different from each one of us was chosen by God to bring the Good News, to bring Christ into the world. And the beauty of God is that God chooses each one of us to bring Christ into the world.

Since we truly do not know what tomorrow will bring, we must look for the miraculous all around us, like Mary believe in the possibility that we are chosen to bring Christ into the world. When we make that choice, we see God in the everyday.

I imagine that God was present in thousands of burning bushes in the desert and thousands passed by that burning bush blind to the miracle, yet only Moses stopped and said, “here I am Lord.” On that barren mountain in Mexico City, how many did not notice roses in the depths of winter. Far too consumed with the barrenness of their hearts to notice life blooming around them. That cold night in Bethlehem where the voices of billions of Angels bursting through time yet many choose to sleep, while simple shepherds looked up, listened to heavenly song that a Savior is born. Maybe they understood the beginning of the miracle, that angels could sing to sheep and Messiahs could be found wrapped in rags and sleeping in a feed trough.

Large events or small events are the beginning of transformation, at times the smaller the better, constantly occurring around us. Often I find myself complaining about the winds in fall, yet I sit in fascination at the flowers in the spring. Forgetting, that the wind picks up a seed, drops it into a place of new life. Little miracles occurring all around my life.

A diagnosis of an illness the loss of a job, refocusing our attention on what truly matters in life. The death of my father, truly painful in that December over 30 years ago, a beautiful reminder that his seed of goodness bloomed in me the miracle of true love for my own wife and son. Little miracles occurring all around me.

I doubt that young terrified Mary truly knew her response would lead to a beautiful man’s life, that would lead to a cross that would lead to everlasting life for each one of us. Or the same yes, would bring each of us from different journeys, different faces, different places, to the miraculous celebration of the Eucharist in a small church in the North Valley of Albuquerque. The beginning of all these little miracles.

My favorite poet, Mary Oliver wrote this poem that speaks to the beginning of a miracle.

How does the seed-grain feel when it is just beginning to be wheat? How does the catbird feel when the blue eggs break and become little catbirds, maybe on midsummer night’s eve, and without fanfare.

And how does the turtle feel as she covers her eggs with the sweep of her feet and leave them for the world to take care of? Does she know her accomplishment? And when the blue heron, beaking his long breast feathers, sees one feather fall, does he know I will find it? Will he see me holding it in my hand as he opens his wings softly and without a sound as he rises and floats over the water?

And this is just any day at the edge of the pond, a black and leafy pond without a name until I named it. And what else can we do when the mysteries present themselves, but hope to pluck from the basket of brisk words that will applaud them, the heron, the turtle, the catbird, the seed-grain kneeling in the dark earth, its body opening into the golden world. All miracles.

During this most holy season, what made Mary special was that always believed in the possibility of a miracle occurring in her life, she knew that God was always placing her at beginning of the miracle. God was with her and nothing is impossible with God.

We must keep our hearts open to the miracles are occurring in our lives, the beginning of the miracles that will changes our lives. When we open our heart to God’s miracles, maybe, just maybe where we will hear God calling out to us from a burning bush and respond “here I am.”

Maybe just maybe, we will hear angels announcing that a savior is born. We will awaken our hearts to the possibility that roses can bloom on a barren hillside in December.

When we open our heart to the miraculous, when we open it to God, and this brings belief.And blessed is she or he who believes.And like Mary, blessed is each one of you.For unto us, unto you - a child will be born. Amen.

*Many thanks to Margaret Silf whose article inspired me to recognize and speak of little miracles on this Feast of Guadalupe.

I have a startling admission that may disturb many of you. I hope you can forgive me, so here it is – I am not perfect. Yes, many of you will not sleep tonight. There were two incidents that led me to disclose this flaw.

I was in the traffic on Montano, and I could see a woman wanted into my lane, I waved her in with a smile. She moved into the lane and…that was it. No thank you, no acknowledgement of my kindness. I sat there irritated, thinking I should of left her sitting in her lane.

Later that day I was in the checkout line at a store, I said hello to the clerk and received a clipped “hi.” As he handed me the change and I said in the cheeriest voice “thank you.” No response and he began cashing out the next customer. Anger, evil thoughts crept into my head once again. You know the one “I pay your salary.” I was irritated.

What was striking about that day was that it was usual. I wake up, kiss my wife goodbye take my son to school, pass by St. Michael and look at that tower, go to work, speak to the doctor about a health issue, complain about a headache, nothing out of the usual, except I focused on two people, I felt, who did not showing appreciation. As it was while I was praying, that I realized my hypocrisy. I went through the usual checklist of requests I present to God - healing for this, the well being of that, peace here, and especially that day patience. I finished with: thank you Lord for all the blessings Amen. Here I was irritated by someone else’s not saying thank you, yet I was just as unthankful.

I said thank you for all the blessings, however, it seemed like a demand letter to God, the thank you at the end was businesslike, with a rote “Sincerely, Daniel.” I sat back and wondered – Am I truly thankful. Do I realize what I am thankful for?

In that day, of my normal, everyday life, I did not take the time to say one silent “thank you father” that I was kissing my wife, taking my son to school, speaking to the doctor, or even complaining about a headache.

I was like one of those 9 lepers in today’s Gospel. Jesus enters a village, and from a distance 10 Lepers see him. They call out to him for healing. “Master have mercy on us.” As always, Jesus responds, he heals them. They run off, I assume jumping for joy. Yet only one, turns back.

He runs back to Christ, falls at his feet in gratitude. Jesus is surprised that only one says thank you. Now I am sure that the other nine were appreciative. I imagine they waved from a distance, yelling thank you Jesus as they ran off. Their lives had changed, they needed to show friends and family their new lives.

Reading this you wonder “how could they be so ungrateful.” But is it really different from what we do? I not talking about the “thank yooooou Lord” when we receive that rebate from the IRS or we avoid the speed radar trap. Or when we swerve and miss being in a traffic accident and say “thank you, Lord.” I mean a sincere message from the heart, when we look at the gifts in our daily lives, and whisper silently “thank you Lord.”At times, faith often falls into the action reaction pattern. We become conditioned to expect an equal or greater amount of what we put in. A vending machine, I put in something of value, like a prayer, and then expect to receive something of worth in return. And truthfully, it is easy to be thankful when times are good.Yet even when times are good, nothing we have is really our own. Everything, everything is a gift from God. We come into this life naked, bringing nothing, and we leave this life naked, taking nothing away. Everything is a gift, and God keeps on giving. God is constantly working in our lives. With each step we take, God supporting, holding, guiding, and loving.

Yet we go about our lives focusing on the next goal, accomplishment or just getting through the day, and we ignore the gifts in our path. And if we are too busy to recognize those gifts, how can we be truly thankful? Yet, like the leper, when we realize what has happened, what is around us, we are transformed. A sense of knowing that somehow our lives will never be the same.

Notice the words of Jesus, for the nine lepers they were made clean. But to the one who came back in thankfulness, Jesus tells him “get up, your faith has made you well.” The Leper understood that with this one encounter with Christ, he would never be the same. He was made well and he falls at the feet of Christ in thanks.

In Christ, we are given something more, more than the everyday, more than simple healing. Our lives become well. We are filled with this love of Christ and everything, everyone, every moment becomes sacred – and thankfulness does not become rote, it becomes lived.

Now for some of us, it may be difficult to give thanks. Are you kidding me, my spouse, partner, parent, child, sibling, or friend was taken from me – I fill beaten and bruised. I lost my job and cannot pay the bills – I feel as if the world has spit upon me. This relationship has left me naked to the world, can’t you see my pain. This illness has left me nailed to the wall, I am tired, I have no room for thanks.

But it is in those places where we feel no gratitude; it is at those places where we find the one who knows. It would be easy to sell our faith if we were promised wealth, power, riches, freedom from illness, problem free lives, marriages that never fail, people that never disagree and that we would given everything we need to make us happy.

Our relationship with Christ does not grant you immunity from pain or trouble. Each one of us will get sick, suffer pain, we may grow old alone or fall victim to cancer or tragedy. In much the same way as those who do not believe in Christ. Our faith does not make the pain go away.

However, there is one large difference. When we feel naked, beaten, spit upon, bloody, bruised and nailed to the wall, Christ has been there. Everything that happens to us in this life has happened to him. And it is not once upon a time, it is now.

Faith in Christ does not mean your life will be perfect, it means that Christ is with you always. Our thankfulness is found in that Christ is always working in our lives, he is walking every step, feeling every pain, sharing in our laughter, comforting when we do not realize the comfort and allowing us to grow when we need to step forward.

Our thankfulness should recognize that we have hope in every situation. God is in unexpected place, grace and power from unexpected people. Joy conquering despair. God in the unexpected, in the simple, in the mundane, and in the painful. It is said that we are born with two diseases. Life from which we die, and hope in Christ, which assures us that the first disease is not terminal.

A man in his 30’s was diagnosed with terminal cancer. He had a wife and small children. He was determined to travel to Lourdes, to find healing for his cancer. Through this ordeal, his wife was frightened and angry; she felt that both God and the doctors had let them down. Yet Mike hoped and prayed he would be healed. He traveled to Lourdes, and upon returning realized there would be no miracle. Yet he was at peace. Instead of weeping in rage, he felt a strange sense of peace and comfort wash over him.

On the trip, he sat with other pilgrims; he prayed with thousands and prayed alone. He ate, he breathed, he was transformed by things and those around him. He still gets scared and angry at not being able to see his kids grow or have his wife next to him. He does not know why he was not cured, but has never been so grateful for his life, family, and church. He believes a miracle took place on that trip. He silently thanks the Lord, each day for all the gifts in his life. I believe Christ responds to Mike, like he responded to the Leper, “Get up Mike, your faith has made you well."

People are to be loved and things are to be used, and never the opposite. Life is precious and fleeting and fragile, and we are blessed by a God who stays by each one of us, each moment of the day. A God who places gifts, both large and small, around each one of us, who has blessed our lives without many of us, realizing it. Everyday gifts truly worth of thanks.

Take a moment, close your eyes and think of something or someone in your life that you are thankful for. Someone who showed you kindness or love. Someone who has walked a journey with you held your hand or just stood by your side. And say a silent thank you Father, Now listen for that voice that spoke to the leper, that spoke to Mike saying, my Child, I long for your voice, and now your faith has made you well.

As a child, I had many heroes. I wanted to throw like Roger Staubach and hit like Mickey Mantle. I devoured books on the American History. In my room were pictures of Jesus, George Washington, and Daniel Webster. Despite these heroes, other than my father, there was only one person that I wanted to be like.

Through a few words, guess who it is. You are watching tv and on one channel, politicians are attacking each other. On the local news, murder, assault and a failing school. The national news is rife with stories on terrorism, disasters, war, corporate greed. Reality shows depressingly mirror our society, so infomercials then become our comfort. You too can have a better look and life for four easy payments of 29.95.

You hear a voice saying “You are special. I like you just the way you are. Won’t you be my neighbor?” I wanted to be Mr. Rogers. Mr. Rogers Neighborhood was a children’s show that taught life lessons to adults and children alike. A yellow flashing traffic light – reminded you to slow down. Life’s formality gave way to sweaters and sneakers. You would be transported to make believe by a red trolley. I can still hear the voices of King Friday, Lady Elaine and my personal favorite - Daniel the striped tiger.

Mr. Rogers never spoke over children, he spoke to them. He dealt with issues such as death, divorce, and anger, fear, and he dealt with them honestly. He validated our emotions. He welcomed everyone and told us that we were important and unique. He made people feel that they were special, despite what they been told.

In my tumultuous childhood, I can remember anxiously awaiting 4 o’clock. In found solace in his show. I needed to hear I was special and someone liked me just for me. That constant message of acceptance made me feel that everything would eventually be ok. For 30 minutes, there was a calming of the storm that raged around me.

Despite this message, he became the object of ridicule. In our jaded society, the message of acceptance and love became the object of mockery. A columnist wrote that he was filling kids with psychobabble and he should teach responsibility. Another wrote that his message made kids weak, and did not prepare children to be tough for the rough real world. The world is not a nice place full of nice people who care and take care of you. Despite the criticism, he never changed his message.

I imagine Jesus heard the same derision. Jesus, why are you are filling all these people with psychobabble. This talk of the poor being important, everyone being welcome at God’s table. It is nonsense, not the real world. God judges and condemns – God does not love. Jesus never changes his message.

He uses the parable of a servant who looks out for himself by misleading and defrauding his master. When his actions are uncovered, he is rewarded. The master appreciates the conniving. Could be Wall Street, Main Street or Capital Hill 2010. Jesus tells them - you are correct, this message does not make sense if your priorities are wealth, power or self.

If your overriding concern is making money, you might not be open to spending time with people who won’t advance your career. You won’t take time off, and you might see other people as tools, or obstacles toward success. You may start to see everything as revolving around your quest for success. Eventually work becomes a God. Few people today believe in multiple Gods, many more believe in newer Gods – like wealth, status or power. We are influenced by what we know; we become what we are influenced by.

If we know rejection, it is easy to reject others. If we know abuse, we may abuse.If we were never loved, how can we love someone else? And how we see ourselves affects how we see others and God. I read: "If your notion of a personal God leads you to denigrate other people or to denigrate their lives and beliefs, then just question it. Ask yourself, are you really listening to God or to yourself."

Jesus asks us who we are willing to listen to. He then places the responsibility one each one of us. God never changes, so who are you willing to listen to? The world or God? He then reminds us what is essential. Jesus tells us that our ultimate success, accomplishments, the outcome will take care of itself if we seek God first. If the world becomes smaller and the Lord larger. If we seek God, the message of love and trust, begins to make perfect sense. More than a silly message, it become life.

We start to understand what is essential. A little four year old boy whose mother and dad had just brought home a baby sister pleaded with his parents to have some private time with this baby; in fact, he insisted. The parents were concerned; maybe he was planning to hurt the baby. Finally, they said ok. He walked into the baby’s room, and the mother and father watched from outside. The little boy looked at the baby, and said “tell me what heaven was like, I’m beginning to forget.”

Mr. Rogers ministry was to children. Many do not know that he was an ordained Presbyterian minister. He never preached, or said the word God. He did not have to. Parents and Children alike received the same elegant, simple message: Be yourself, love each other, be patient, be kind. He reminded us that we are dependent upon one another. Helping children grow into caring adults, begins with being caring adults.

He understood what was essential. In fact he kept a quote on his desk from the book the Little Prince. It said: “what is essential is invisible to the eye.” Like that young boy attempting to remember the essentials of heaven, we must strain to hear that call beyond the clanging of this world.

Mr. Rogers once said that with children, you do not have to talk about the weather. If a child feels safe, very often what happens to be on his or her mind will just spill out. He recounted that a little boy in Chicago once said to him – “I do not wear diapers at night anymore.”

Last week two 4 year olds, reminded me of what was essential in the world. Jordan, was receiving communion and as I said the Body of Christ she smiled and asked me– “did you see my red boots?” Yes Jordan, they are beautiful. Later than evening, Ava ran over and hugged. She asked if I was hungry, offered me the cookie in her hand and said, it is not dessert it was food – eat it Fr. Daniel. Thank you Ava.

They know the important things are invisible to eye. And when we seek God, we realize what is essential - sitting around a table with family or friends. To sit in wonder at the base of the Sandia and take in the breadth of creation. Laying on your back and stare at the stars in amazement. To laugh, as your animals play, and knowing that they truly know what is like to live in the moment. To sit in silent and feel the divine, and then whisper “thank you Lord.”

When we seek God first, we do not have to position ourselves in front of the powerful or trudge along in this cruel world, we can tell someone they are special or that they are perfect the way they are. We can read the bible, and understand it is a book of love. We can cry as we understand the meaning of community within the word communion, or feel God’s healing love as we sing Amazing Grace.

When you think about it, nothing can really compete with that feeling when you are close to God. There is a trust, a constancy, a feeling that we are special just the way we are, that there is no one in the world just like you. We can talk to God about our problems, our dreams, our new red boots or whether a cookie is really food. The clutter leaves and we remember what is essential is invisible to the eye.

Mr. Rogers had a song, and I can imagine Christ singing: I’m taking care of you, Taking good care of you, For once I was little too, Now I take care of you.

* Special Note of Thanks to Amy Hollingsworth for her book: The Simple Faith of Mr. Rogers: Spiritual Insights from the World’s Most Beloved Neighbor. This book is a gem and I borrowed freely from it. I encourage you to read it.

When I was young, the first few weeks of school were a time of uncertainty. I worried that I would not fit in, whether I would be welcome in certain circles, if I would have any friends. I was afraid that I would be alone.

I remember tentatively approaching the lunch room because I did not know if I would have anyone to sit with or if I would be invited to sit at a table. The fear of being left out was unbearable; not being accepted was terrifying.

My fears subsided once someone reached out to me, or when I took a chance and reached out to someone else. I also remember, seeing those who were not popular, those who were not invited to a table. They sat alone and you felt their sadness.

I found it difficult to grasp that one human being could discard another to the shadows, to be ostracized because of your appearance, social status, or personality. I wanted to create a table large enough for everyone.

My son began a new school this year and I drove both he and my wife crazy. I obsessed on whether he would have someone to eat lunch with. My love is so deep for him, that I did not want my son to eat alone.

In today’s Gospel, we sense Jesus’ deep concern that no one is left alone. Jesus spent every waking moment reaching out to everyone he encountered. Wherever he goes, he pulls people close, he invites them in. He encourages all those around him to do the same. To both the included and excluded, he describes a wonderful Kingdom of God where everyone is welcome and no one sits alone. His words, his life give hope that no one is left behind.

In our Gospel, you sense a bit of exasperation in Jesus’ voice. He notices that a table is prepared and many are missing. He asks why? Why are you only eating with people you know? If you only spend time with those who act like you, look like you, think like you, go to the same schools, or shop in the same stores, how you will see the face of God. Invite all these people who will never receive an invitation. It is up to you.

Now on the surface, it is a wonderful message. Therein lies the problem with Jesus. He really messes everything up. It is easy to pretend to not understand what he is saying, because we know very well that the moment we understand, we have to act. Jesus makes radical demands on us. Jesus did not talk about bringing the kingdom of God in some far off time; he wants us to do it now.

A few months back, it was stated that – Jesus does not need any more admirers, he needs disciples. If we are to be disciples of Christ – can we can admire and worship Jesus without doing what he did? Can we can applaud what he preached and stood for without caring about the same things. At what point do our beliefs and our lives converge?

When Jesus enters this banquet, he does not focus on the setting or the food, he comments on those who are missing. Why? Because everyone mattered to Jesus, each person he encountered became part of him, and he part of them. An inherent sense within our being that each individual is for too precious to be excluded, from community, from love. He wants them included.

This is not a foreign feeling, it is part of who we are. When we see someone hurting or alone, we feel it. When we see a child lost, or an elderly person struggling, there is a pang that causes us to act. When we see someone on the outside looking in,–we want to bring them in. When you feel this inside, you have experienced God, perhaps without knowing it.

I recently read a story of five business people visiting New York. Their important meetings lasted longer than expected and they were late for dinner at a fancy restaurant. As they rushed to catch the waiting cab, they knocked over a stand of that contained the products and money of an elderly street vendor.

They apologized but continued to run toward the waiting cab. One stopped, turned around and helped the vendor, and found that the vendor was blind. The blind vendor softly said “thank you Jesus.” The man smiled and said “Yeah, he always helps me.” The elderly blind man responded, “No, are you Jesus.”

Our faith is most sacred when we live it, when we reach out to others. Our lives must shout our faith. When we do this people will know that we are followers of Christ, not by the cross we wear around our necks but by the love we carry within our hearts.

Throughout the Gospel, we see that Jesus’ heart breaks for those who are left out. He not only fed people, he stopped and invited them into his life. Jesus took time to know the poor and his life demonstrates that we must not only help the poor, we must know the poor? Because when the poor meet the rich, riches will have no meaning. And when the rich meet the poor, poverty will come to an end.

And notice Jesus did not define poverty. Yes, the poor are those in our community who cannot afford a home, food, medication or clothes. They are the ones on the margins of society who will never be invited to the table, unless we welcome them to our table.

The poor are those children of God who are starving spiritually, physically and emotionally. Those not only those unloved by society, but unloved by themselves. The children of God who will never be invited to the table, unless we invite them into our lives.

The poor are those nameless faces we pass each day. Those lost because of illness, fractured relationships, loneliness, desperation. Those who know deep down, they will never be invited to the table, unless they happen to bump into Jesus, or maybe even a follower of Jesus who stops, reaches out and represents the love of Christ.

In our Gospel, Jesus asked his host, where are the poor? Now he is asking us - If you only eat with those who you like, how will you show my love?If you love only those who love you, how will you share my welcoming embraceIf we only invite to our table the people we know, how will we reflect the face of God?

When we invite someone into our church, into our lives, something holy happens. We’re making an effort to see beyond the surface appearances that we often judge people by. We’re making an effort to see each individual as God sees them.

When we invite someone in, we begin to see their faces, you will hear their voices. We acknowledge God in one another. When we welcome strangers to our table, we are welcoming God. We will not allow them to eat alone.

We have a beautiful table at St. Michael, our job is to prepare it, and then build the guest list. Through our Season of Listening, through our ministries, through our individual lives, let’s invite people in. Let’s prepare a table that consists of everyone, sinner, saint, citizen, convict, rich, poor, the young couple far from home, the single who eat alone, seniors who do not drive, teens who feel left out.

Let prepare a table for the straight, gay, married and divorced, the sick, the healthy, every color, shape and class imaginable. Let’s invite them in. When we prepare this big table we may get a taste that heavenly banquet that Jesus often spoke of. We may glimpse the Kingdom of God. When we prepare a big welcoming table for all, we know that we will have a place at that table, and the joy of knowing that no one will ever eat alone.

In the Northern New Mexico of my youth, one would find numerous images of Nuestra Senora De Dolores (Our Lady of Sorrows). The representation of Mary with a sword piercing her heart and tears in her eyes as she grieves over the suffering of her son. Throughout the villages of the north, are the Penitentes, a group of lay religious devoted to the suffering of Christ and the sorrows of Mary – they influenced my spiritual and cultural formation.

Memories of the Penitentes singing ancient hymns or alabados brought over from 15th century Spain are quite vivid. These hymns evoke a pleading and wailing, so much so that within the walls of a darkened church, as the verses begin – you almost instantly begin to cry as sorrow and pain converge in prayerful plainchant “a mi hijo Jesus le dio en rostro y en la Corazon a mi. “he hit my son Jesus on the face and hit me in the heart.”

I was deeply affected by one of these hymns during a velorio or wake of a young boy who died tragically. The song written about Mary, seem to apply to this grieving mother “You are left alone, what desolation, without the presence of you beautiful Son.” She wept uncontrollably, refusing to leave the casket of her son as this song was sung. She would cry out, first in anger, yelling “Dios, porque? – God why?”, and then pleading “Por favor Dios- ayudame –Please God, help me.” She eventually had to be carried out of the Church.

At that moment, her anger, grief, pain, and helplessness all made sense, they were natural. This woman’s grief had a profound impact on me, because she shared this profound pain, and her grief was a prayer, her pain was holy, it was sacred. It was as if the wailing pounded on the gates of heaven. I wondered if she would ever find peace.

As I left the church, I thought of the importance of grieving. To get angry, to cry, and then move into absolute dependence. To scream at God and then understand and allow God’s response to our pain. That may sound strange – to be angry at God, can we do this?

Today’s Gospel speaks of not only compassion, but pain. The traveler, on his way is blind-sided by life. We assume the attack was savage because it says he was left half-dead. So when he finally regains consciousness, he is in pain, tasting blood in his mouth, his vision is out of focus.

Imagine his desperation as he struggles to his feet. He falls back on the ground in pain and afraid, attempting to make sense of what just happened. All he can see is the world passing on its merry way while he is suffering. As he was lying there alone, what is he thinking?

Is he independent saying I going be tough, and avoid everyone. I do not need God or anyone else’s help. Is it, I am going to act like nothing happened, I’ll just hide until the pain passes and then go on my way. When I get my strength, I will whack the next person who comes along, take their donkey and money and then I will feel better.

Most likely through the pain and despair, he looks up to the sky and asks – why? He pounds the dirt, and screams at God “Why me? Why did I do to deserve this?” There is never a sufficient explanation for tragedy and suffering so he becomes angrier, screams, and moans. Finally, he begins to cry. He sobs in absolute helplessness until that Samaritan hears him and gently lifts him up. Lying in his pain, maybe he even whispered the same words of that grieving mother – “please, please help me Lord.”

When we read this Gospel, most assume that the traveler was robbed of his money, but the Gospel does not describe what was taken. Anyone of us can be that traveler in our Gospel, walking along in life and then our marriage is robbed of trust by an act of infidelity, or our certain future robbed by cancer or illness.

Maybe we were robbed of home or savings because of the economy. Trust and innocence stolen because of violence or abuse. It could have been a religious leader stealing the love of God from you based on their own selfishness. What if your heart was taken by the death of someone you dearly love?

In each instance, you feel beaten, powerless and bewildered. And you do not have to be by the side of the road, you can be sleepless in your bed at night, pounding the kitchen table or maybe sitting right here in this church, biting your lip to hold back the tears. Wondering silently, Why me? What have I done to deserve this?

It sounded silly for the traveler to avoid everyone, to act like nothing ever happened, or to go at it alone. But for many of us, that is how we behave. We do not want to express our anger, our doubts, and our grief. What do we do?

Do we bury it, and avoid the pain – that never works because it will eventually rise to the surface. Do we avoid God? That only isolates us from our true calling and separates us from a supportive community. For many, it is easier to bury our pain than to free your tears.

Or do you just let go, scream at God and then sob uncontrollably? When we give ourselves permission to bring our pain and loss into the light and allow it to breathe, it is there that healing begins and trust returns.

When we acknowledge our pain and suffering, that broken place allows for the peace of God to enter. For just as we cannot sufficiently explain tragedy, as St. Paul writes – we have no words for the peace of God which passes all understanding.

We are never told that we can complain to God. But as I have come to know this indescribable love of God, I began to understand that God can handle our anger, God can handle our questioning, and God can handle our pain. Because God has been there, and understands, only God can give the peace we need.

God can stand there and have you can pound on that divine chest, using the worst language possible and you will simply be loved. When we question God the most, seems to be when God is holding us the tightest. God is there, weeping with us, lying next to us when we are cursing the darkness.

This is not a new concept, nearly 1/3 of all the Psalms are about complaining to God, asking God why? Yet we avoid those Psalms. Jesus tells us in that beatitudes that weeping and mourning is a blessed state. Jesus wept openly at the grief of Martha and Mary.

We often hear many evangelical and conservative churches say that we need to have personal relationship with Christ, with God. I agree, and that includes the stuff most do not like to deal with – the pain, the anger, the helplessness, the crying. At times, yelling at God is the most honest type of prayer.

Where we surrender, when we yell God’s name, we actually show that we need God. I often wonder if Jesus prefers that we do not believe or ignore him because it makes our eventual belief all the more interesting, all the more intense. Think of it, when you look at the sky and ask “if you really exist, how can let this happen” you are communicating with God.

When God see us in pain, when we are hurting, the last thing the divine wants from us is a soppy halleluiah, or false praise. God wants an honest, true relationship and that includes loving each one of us enough to hear our pain, our doubts, our complaints, our cries. There is a speaks of this love. The words go:

God loves a lullaby, In a mothers tears in the dead of night. God loves a drunkards cry, A soldiers plea not to let him die Better than a Hallelujah sometimes. The woman holding on for dear life, The dying man giving up the fight, Better than a Hallelujah sometimes.

The tears of shame for what's been done, the silence when the words won't come. We pour out our miseries, and God just hears a melody, Beautiful the mess we are, the honest cries of breaking hearts are better than a Hallelujah.

We know Mary’s story, she lived in complete trust of God. I believe the traveler saved by the Samaritan changed hearts and lives through the same compassion he was shown. The woman who pleaded with God at her son’s funeral, she volunteers at the church, helping the needy and there she started a support group for those who have suffered loss or trauma. She often says she is blessed.

God love us intimately, and it is ok to be angry with your pain, you are allowed to cry like a baby, to grieve hopelessly, to question, to shake your fist. Nothing will change God’s love for you. God is always listening for the sound of your voice, whether angry, sad, despairing or praising, your voice will always be met with God’s song of love the gift of peace. Go ahead, cry out, you will be surprised by the response.

Have you ever the pleasure of encountering family members or acquaintances who ask the question that begins with “Since when?” For example - “Since when did you stop going to bars?” “Since when did you care about the environment?” “Since when did you become soooo religious?” The question is usually asked with cynicism and unbelief.

These people seem to want to define you by past interactions at school, family functions, or superficial conversations. It is as if they have kept you frozen in amber. No allowance for your growth, transformation or change. No true understanding of what or who you have become.

In my personal experience, I notice the people who usually ask me this question are people who knew me, but never took the time to know me. I become like one of those prehistoric mosquitoes frozen in amber, and every once and a while I am held up to the light, so they could see right through me.

Primarily because of my ego, I become irritated with these people and their “since when” questioning. I often ask myself, “is that how they really see me?” I often wish they could see me through a different set of eyes and to really know me.

Today’s Gospel speaks of how Christ sees us with a different set of eyes. But more importantly, the Gospel allows us to see ourselves through the eyes of God. Jesus is in the temple where he was raised, and he chooses to read the passage from Isaiah. In a few brief sentences, he describes to the listeners this wondrous change that is occurring in the world, he speaks of a special love.

In the temple, there seems to be an air of disbelief. Imagine if you were raised with the notion that God only judges, God is distant and you have to meet prerequisites in order to be loved by God. Your response? Disbelief. We read that “all eyes were fixed upon him” In the next verse, they ask if this is really Joseph’s son. Now remember, this is Jesus’ hometown. Most would of known Jesus since he was a baby. Why the amazement? They had this image of Jesus, and did not allow for something new.

I am sure that some of said to themselves - “Since when did you become sooo religious?” “Since when did God make YOU King?” I sure these responses did not faze Jesus, he still hears the same questions today. Notice that Jesus did not speak of a strict, brutal or unforgiving God. He did not speak of worthiness or unworthiness, of sinfulness, self-interest or condemnation.

Jesus spoke of serving others; of hope for the poor, release for the oppressed, healing for the sick, including the excluded. Jesus told them of the all encompassing, indescribable love that God has for each one of us. That is why they call it the Good News.

This message of God’s love was revolutionary. For thousands of years, people knew God, but they did know God. It was extremely difficult for them to understand that God intimately loved them. Why? Because if they truly accept and understood this love, then they have to look at the world in love.

If they understood God’s deep love, they could not ostracize they could not ostracize those who were different. If they understood God’s love, they could not ignore the sick and poor. If they understood this love, they would welcome all to God’s table with love and without conditions. In the words of St. Paul– we are we are one body, and if one member suffers, we all suffer.

It was hard to recognize that deep love over 2000 years ago, and it is difficult to embrace God’s love today. Each Sunday, the deacon comes out in your midst and announces the Holy Gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ. Deacon Jan and Deacon Judith read poetic language that describes this holy mystery of the Son of God, who gives, serves and loves. But what does it really mean? These Gospels mean that God holds each one of us close, God loves each one of us without reservation or conditions. So perfectly reflected in Jesus Christ.

And that is why Jesus walked toward Calvary with complete faith, because he knew of the great love God had for him. At times fearful, hesitant and even questioning, he embraced God’s love and then went out to the poor, the lost and the hurting. And then Jesus said there is nothing that will keep us from God’s love and no one, no one has to hide in the shadows. God does not push anyone to the margins we are loved equally.

This unconditional love is hard to accept. Because if we accept it, we must respond, and when we respond, our faith comes alive. It means that despite the challenges of our lives, the incredible joys and the devastatingly lows, you are deeply loved by God. This love gives us hope, and with hope, we can change the world.

Our faith, the Eucharist, this Church does not make any sense unless it is transformed into practical action. You cannot learn to dance by reading a book, you cannot swim by looking at the water, and you cannot love by watching a romantic comedy. You have to dance, dive in, and offer your heart. When we understand God’s love for each one of us, we move from thinking of how to love others, to a place where we cannot help but love one another.

While preparing this sermon, I read a story that describes the inherent call to love. Nicholas Kristoff wrote of growing up on farm. The most admirable creates were the geese; they mate for life and adhere to values that would shame most of those who dine on them. If one of the geese was sitting on her eggs, her mate would forage for food and if he found a delicacy, he would rush back to give it to his mate. Kristoff would offer males a dish of corn to fatten them up — but it was impossible, for they would take it all home to their true loves.

Kristoffs monthly job was to grab a goose for slaughter. The geese knew that something dreadful was happening and would cower in a corner of the barn, and run away in terror as he approached. He would grab one and carry it away as it screeched and struggled in his arms. Inevitably, another goose would bravely step away from the panicked flock and walk toward him. It would be the mate of the one he caught, male or female, and it would step right up to him, protesting pitifully. It would be frightened out of its wits, but still determined to stand with and comfort its love.

Jesus walked toward the cross because of God’s love, and we are called to step forward for others because of that love. Scared out of our wits, unsure what our steps will bring, we step forward because realize we are united to each other and God by this amazing, unconditional, divine love.

I do not need to tell you that the world is hurting. Haiti suffered an indescribable tragedy, but we forget that Haiti was suffering terribly prior to the earthquake. There is suffering in Africa, Central America, in the neighborhoods around St. Michaels. People are losing their homes, children are being abused, the sick are without health insurance, and millions are relegated to the shadows. Embrace God’s love and even if it is tentative, step forward in love and change the world for them.

In that temple 2000 years ago, Jesus shocked people by announcing that everyone matters, that God loves each one of us passionately. So when you are asked “Since when did you care so much about others?” “Since when did you start spending sooo much time at the church?” Feel the power of that love that burns for you, that love that burns within you and respond with a knowing smile - “Since right here and right now.”

The other evening, my son and I were watching the Food Network. One of the chefs used the old adage - “it is all in the presentation.” Presentation, first impressions; a lasting opinion can be formed by a first encounter with a restaurant, person or religion.

Today we celebrate Christ the King. For those who do not know Jesus, what could be the first impression of using the words Christ and King together? Some may think of power, oppression or dominance. For others, glory, majesty and awe.

Personally, I think it is an odd word to describe Jesus. And it seems that Pilate is having the same difficulty calling Christ a King. Who can blame him? Pilate has everything – status, money and power. So imagine Pilate’s first impression of this poor and beaten man standing before him.

This much does not have a home, how can he be a King, where is his Kingdom? Yet what does Pilate really know of this Jesus? That he challenges judgmental religious authorities, preaches strange things like acceptance, love and this Kingdom that involves God. But Jesus a King? What kind of King would walk with the poor? Or touch the sick? What King would eat with outcasts? Not any King we know of.

But Pilate only has heard one side of the story. What he knows is what others have told him. I doubt if Pilate heard of how comforted those in pain, how Jesus smiled at the outcasts, the way he took little children into his arms and blessed them. Pilate did not see how Jesus looked into your eyes and said – I love you just the way you are.

No, people took Jesus and used him for their own advantage. Used his words against him, distorted his message. They took this beautiful man and battered his body to the point of disfigurement. The Jesus that is presented to Pilate, made him unrecognizable to the people who follow him.

When Pilate looks down and asks ‘Are you the King of the Jews? Jesus’ answer is telling, ‘Do you ask this on your own, or did others tell you about me?’ In reading this encounter, I not only thought of the Pilate and the Pharisees, I thought of how Christians have presented Jesus to the world? What do we tell others about him?

Is Jesus a King or a Servant? Judgmental or asking that we not judge? Does Jesus accept or condemn? Include or exclude? What interpretation of Jesus has been presented to the world? Sadly, there are instances where Jesus has been used for power and oppression.

We believe that the Church is the body of Christ and it is painful to acknowledge that many have taken that beautiful body, the church, and disfigured it with the beatings of exclusion and condemnation. To the point that the word – Evangelism, taking the message of Christ to world, now has a negative connotation for many.

Whose is this Jesus presented to the world when we have supposed Christians picketing at the funerals of fallen soldiers as a way to condemn homosexuality, or Christians allowing injustice to occur in the name of religion, clergy excluding others from Christ table as if one can claim sole ownership of Christ’s body. Not any Jesus I recognize.

What Jesus is presented to nonbelievers when there are those who spread the Good News by laying out a list of unattainable expectations and then stating that if those expectations are not met, or worse met and broken, you may suffer eternal fire and damnation. Now it may be me, but who would want to join that club.

God is always reaching out to us, reaching out to us in love. And we have allowed Christianity to be portrayed as a pointed finger rather than as an outstretched hand.This is important because by pointing a finger you are requiring the other person to do all the work, to change their behavior, to fit into your expectations.

With an outstretched hand you are required to participate, to help the other, to use your strength and to rely on the strength of others. God is always reaching out to us. And the greatest act in the history of this fragile plant is when the divine reached out to the world. It was reach out to each one of us in the divine plan. To bring hope and not despair, light and not darkness, love and not hate. That is Christ.

Pilate did not recognize Christ, and today many would not recognize Jesus. You know those insignificant instances when we saw him hungry and we fed him, when he was a stranger and we welcomed him, we he was hungry, sick and poor and we reached out and responded, when we reached out and loved.

We are blessed by the amazing power of God to transform, to overcome the darkness. And for every negative portrayal of Christ to the world, there have been millions of beautiful pictures.

Like the head of British television, Malcolm Muggeridge. An affirmed agnostic, until one day, while in India, he watched as Mother Teresa pushed a wheelbarrow carrying a dying man infested with maggots to a Hindu temple.

Mother Teresa wanted this man to die with dignity. Surrounded by love and in his own faith tradition. She told Muggeridge that the poor were really Christ presented in a distressing disguise and that we must “do something beautiful for God.” Muggeridge converted to Christianity.

Or of the Anglican nun in Africa, cleaning those dying from the Ebola virus. The television interviewer stating “I would not do that for a million dollars.” The nun responding “neither would I.”

Millions of instances where Jesus is presented as the individual who becomes a voice for the voiceless, the person who cared for the sick, the one who included those on the margins, the person who fed the poor. The politician who fought against injustice Christ presented to the world as we know him..

Now the question becomes – how do we present Christ to the world. You know those little things like love, forgiveness, and acceptance. Feeding the hungry, clothing the poor, fighting for justice.

St. Francis said to preach the Gospel at all times and when necessary use words. Christ presented in our homes, in how we treat our families, wives, husbands, partners, children. It can be something as simple as a smile. It can be over pie in the Parish hall.

You are presenting Christ to the world in song, or when we bring up cans of food at the offertory. By teaching the loving and accepting message of Jesus to our children. You are presenting Christ with just a bit of forgiveness, patience and kindness. It is there that Jesus becomes recognizable in each one of us.

King, Savior, Messiah, Jesus. Many words used to present Christ. When I think of that beautiful message that he preached, the love he represents, there is not a word that can describe him. It just makes me what to follow him.

And when I follow him, I have hope. It is that hope of Christ that I want to present to the World. As we begin Advent, remember that in the cold fields of Bethlehem, God presented Jesus with these words:

An angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them. The angel said to them, ‘Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: for unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. You will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.’ And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and singing Glory to God in the highest heaven, and peace to all people on earth.